Scars of Discipline
by ardavenport
Summary: Qui-Gon must decide on Anakin's training. His old master suggests a course. Alternate universe.


**Scars of Discipline**

by ardavenport

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"Aaaauuuuggghh!!!"

Young Qui-Gon flinched, jumping back. Without thinking, he automatically extinguished his lightsaber blade and lowered the hilt, signaling his capitulation in the match.

His expression critical, Dooku lingered in his fighting stance before he finally backed up, straightening. His blue lightsaber blade swung up with a flourish before vanishing.

Qui-Gon did not lower his eyes until Dooku had inclined his head. When he did, he carefully looked down at where he clutched his hand to his side.

They were alone in the small training arena. It was late. They were fighting tsamo; shirtless, barefoot, only wearing their pants for a completely minimal bout. Qui-Gon had thought he was doing well. Though he was only twelve and could not match the power of Dooku's strokes, he was large for his age and growing, and he knew he was improving. But apparently not enough to satisfy his Master.

He carefully pulled his hand away. He had been clutching it so tightly to him that he was afraid that it would stick to the seared skin, but it came away. The wound was small, less than half a finger length at most. But the pain burned into him with it's intensity, and the shock that he was even wounded at all.

Dooku had done it on purpose. Qui-Gon knew this as surely as he knew the Force. And Dooku knew that he knew. That seemed to be of no consequence to him. Qui-Gon's thoughts froze on that. Since he was a youngling Initiate, he had been taught that sparring was as much a test of skill as it was of strength. Any saber touch to an opponent was dealt with as a sign of weak attention to the Force and the offender was taken out of any saber practice and intensively schooled in meditation and concentration exercises until the Creche Masters were satisfied that there would be no further accidents. It had never happened to Qui-Gon, but he had seen his clan mates being drilled for long hours by the Masters.

He would have never imagined that own his Master, a Jedi Knight, strong and disciplined in the Force, would make such an error. But it had not been an error.

Why. . . ?

Qui-Gon sucked in air through his teeth as he probed the burn, just under his rib cage. It was mostly red and blistering with a tiny black center. He resisted touching the charred spot. The wound would need bacta. He would have to go to the med center if he wished to prevent a scar. Where he would also have to explain what caused the injury, and who had done it.

"I think we've had enough practice for tonight. I suggest we both retire and meditate on our mutual respect for the blade. And its power."

Qui-Gon stared into his Master's brown eyes and Dooku did not flinch. He seemed unconcerned about the injury he had caused. But he looked unhappy about it, and Qui-Gon wondered if. . . .

. . . . his mentor was most unhappy with him, or himself.

**

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***!!***!!***!!***!!***!!*****

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"Your former Padawan seems to think that he is the superior to me in lightsaber training. I had thought that you were only capable of such arrogance, Qui-Gon."

Master Qui-Gon Jinn looked from one to the other petitioners before him. Master Dooku, in crisp brown tunics, stood imperiously glowering down at Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable, but stubborn and determined, his new growth of beard making him look only slightly older than his twenty five years.

They were both holding their lightsabers unclipped from their belts.

"You have a disagreement," he stated. They were alone in a small training arena. It was late.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied.

"Obviously," Dooku sneered.

Though his former mentor and student respected each other, they did not seem to be getting along well since Dooku had resumed his position at the Jedi Temple. Years had gone by since the Jedi elder had any presence on Coruscant. His diplomatic mission assignments for the Order kept him away for long periods of time and Qui-Gon had not seen him in years before his return. He was well though of on many systems and there had been rumors that he had been offered positions of political influence outside of the Order. But if they had occurred at all, Dooku had declined. And remained a Jedi.

Qui-Gon looked from one to the other, expectantly.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan spoke up first. "Master Dooku and I were discussing Anakin's lightsaber training. And Anakin asked what would happen if there were any. . . . 'accidents' with the blades."

"As if there would be." Dooku sounded highly offended.

"I explained to him that 'accidents' did not happen with the Force and that contact was absolutely forbidden and his instructors would be aware if anyone was insufficiently mindful before anything could happen." Obi-Wan paused for a breath. "But Master Dooku seemed to imply- - -"

"I do not imply anything. Nor do I hint or insinuate," Dooku snapped. "I correctly stated that though the Jedi Code forbids any contact that there is no better reminder to improve one's focus than the touch of the blade." He looked from the young Knight to his own former pupil and back. "You of all people should know that."

Obi-Wan's face went rigid, his lips clamping tight over any words. Qui-Gon felt his own expression go cold. Dooku lifted his brows as if to ask what was wrong, but Qui-Gon saw uncertainty in his eyes, felt a recoil in the Force. His old Master knew he had gone too far and his gaze lowered in as much of a concession as he would give.

"Of course it is absolutely forbidden to intentionally touch a student with the blade," Qui-Gon stated. "The Jedi Code forbids it. But only Masters are privileged to know why." He paused, both he and Dooku knew that a young Knight like Obi-Wan would not have access to that knowledge. Nor would a young Knight and first-time Master have known, as Dooku had once been.

"Only the Sith teach by pain," Qui-Gon continued. "Leave a literal mark on the skin of the apprentice. As a reminder of their teaching."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and then he looked severely toward Dooku who seemed unconcerned, his expression almost admiring toward Qui-Gon.

"Intriguing that Sith are of such great concern these days. And that the Jedi learn again about them. From them. After all this time, I hope the Order is up to the challenge," Dooku noted.

"They have regrettably become the focus of the Jedi Order's attention." Qui-Gon sadly looked toward Obi-Wan, who lowered his eyes.

"Where is Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, returning to the subject.

"One of the Creche Masters detained him for some instruction," Obi-Wan answered, obviously relieved by the change of topic. Dooku's lip twitched, a remark about Anakin unspoken. He had already opined that he thought that Anakin needed extra disciplining in his training to catch up with the other Initiates. Privately, Qui-Gon agreed.

Not only was Anakin just beginning at the age of nine and training with other younglings who had been schooled in the Force since before they could walk, he had come from the hard life of a slave and he instinctively resented anyone giving him orders. He would obey, but for anyone other than Qui-Gon he would only do as much as he thought he had to. Until admonished him for it. His immense natural talents with the Force had too easily allowed him to catch up with his clan mates, but he treated his exercises with them like competition. He learned quickly, but with little depth. And he was unpredictable, showing flashes of brilliance mixed with regrettable immaturity.

Qui-Gon had discussed the problem with the Creche Masters but he had yet to reach resolution. Dooku suggested that the solution was more discipline. That option felt wrong to Qui-Gon, but he had yet to determine an alternative. And he needed to soon. There was no coincidence that he had found Anakin, a boy of such huge potential, at a vergence in the Force itself, just when the Sith emerged. There were no coincidences in the Force. Anakin would the Jedi's champion in their new conflict with the Sith, but only with the right training.

"I would suggest that in the meantime we engage in some lightsaber training of our own. To focus our minds on the problem," Qui-Gon suggested, taking off his robe. "If you would do me the honor, my former Master? And then you, Obi-Wan?"

Dooku responded with a curt nod. Obi-Wan mumbled an 'Of course.'

Qui-Gon began removing his belt.

"I recommend we fight tsamo. To focus on our task."

His robe halfway off, Dooku froze. Qui-Gon returned his stare with unconcerned calm. Obi-Wan looked merely puzzled, but he began to disrobe as well.

They folded their clothing into neat piles at the edge of the arena. Barefoot on the cool patterned floor and wearing only their pants, Dooku and Qui-Gon faced each.

"It has been a long time, my Padawan," Dooku intoned in his low resonant voice.

"It has," Qui-Gon agreed.

At the edge of the arena, Obi-Wan scrutinized them. Qui-Gon felt his eyes looking at him carefully. At the tiny and very old scars on his side, arm, near his ankles and where his pants concealed the three on his legs. There were fewer than a dozen; Obi-Wan had seen them before, but never asked. His blue-gray glare went icy as he looked toward Dooku, who had no such marks.

They both bore other larger scars of their many years of service, though they were long ago healed by their years. They were fit and healthy, but Dooku's muscles were loosened with age, the skin not as tight, a thinning that no amount of exercise would improve. The sparse hair on his chest had gone nearly white. Qui-Gon felt the signs of age in his own body, but for now he retained the same weight and physique that he had for decades.

They saluted each other with a brief easy twirl before bringing their lightsabers up before them.

As the observer, at the side of the arena, Obi-Wan initiated the match. "Begin."

They simultaneously lunged back, sabers poised and pointed at their opponent, a long thoughtful pause, each fighter appraising the other.

Their lightsabers snapped and buzzed ominously, locking together between them on their first engagement. Though older, Dooku had lost none of his fighting strength. They separated, attacking and defending with rapid blows, glowing saber blades clashing, wheeling around to strike and counter-strike, green on blue, blue on green. They separated again, circling this time.

"After all this time I would have expected better from you Qui-Gon," Dooku said with a grin of confidence. His self-assurance radiated outward in the Force. He found his old apprentice predictable.

Qui-Gon whirled. Dooku blocked his offensive, but Qui-Gon rebounded from it low, going for Dooku's ankles. The older man jumped and forced Qui-Gon back.

"Don't retreat, Qui-Gon. Press your advantage," Dooku said as he demonstrated, blue blade whirling before him. "I don't know how you managed to defeat that Sith on Naboo fighting like this."

Backed to the edge of the circle, Qui-Gon ducked to the side, but Dooku anticipated as if the Force tied them together with a string with Dooku pulling his end with skill and Qui-Gon's slipping away. He felt as if he were twelve years old again, his Master drilling him mercilessly to mold and improve his skills.

Whirling away, Qui-Gon took a defensive stance in the center of the arena, his green saber poised and pointed at Dooku's chest. It wasn't he who was feeling the past, it was Dooku who ruled with knowledge and an overwhelming elder's confidence. But that was the past.

Feigning indecision, Qui-Gon let Dooku attack. He defended, concentrating on deflecting the other blade and holding his position. He evaluated Dooku as if he were a new opponent. His saber blade came down close to Dooku's ear, driving him to the side.

"Better!" Dooku exclaimed gleefully, his eyes shining. But the compliment was only meant to reposition himself as teacher and Master. Qui-Gon twirled his blade, but Dooku ignored the minor distraction, his eyes remaining locked on his objective before he attacked again. Qui-Gon blocked and their sabers locked again at the hilts. A wall of power in the Force, Dooku really was like a new opponent. His smooth elegance was now a towering presence threatening to crush him from above and from all sides. He had clearly made good use of his time away from the Temple.

Qui-Gon's hand shot out, physically connecting to Dooku's chest. The Force whooshed out from him in one great push. Dooku went flying backwards, hitting the wall and then sliding down it, stunned.

At the side of the arena, Obi-Wan stared with open-mouthed shock. It had been a completely illegal move. But Dooku was already struggling to his feet.

"I may have underestimated you, Qui-Gon," Dooku said, striding back into the ring.

"Perhaps," Qui-Gon responded. "Nevertheless, the match is yours."

"Technically." He seemed quite unconcerned with who had won or how. Reigniting their sabers, they gave each other a final ceremonial salute. "I am still pleased to see that you appreciate unconventional tactics. You would do well to instruct your new Padawan that way." He extended his arm to the open doorway.

Anakin Skywalker stood there watching them.

The boy warily went to where a shirtless Obi-Wan stood.

"What's this?" he asked, looking dubiously from one to the other of his elders.

"Lightsaber training," Qui-Gon told him. "Obi-Wan," he invited the young Knight into the arena. Dooku walked around him. Anakin made a face as the older man towered over him. He and Dooku tended to challenge each other, a young boy's independent streak matched against a senior Master's sense of superiority. The friction between them was annoying, but Qui-Gon thought Dooku was a much better influence on young Anakin than the new Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, who had taken an unhealthy interest in his new pupil's training. Qui-Gon had successfully kept the older politician away from the boy, with Dooku's help, though his former Master admonished him to not speculate about what Palpatine might be interested in.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan faced each other in the center of the arena. They saluted. Again, Obi-Wan's eyes looked toward the small scars on Qui-Gon's body. The young Knight had no obvious scars from his missions as Qui-Gon's Padawan. All his injuries had all been treated in med-centers. He had no saber scars.

Except for one.

His right forearm ended where the Sith on Naboo had cut off his wrist and hand.

Obi-Wan attacked first, lunging forward, deliberately using the stump of his right arm for balance. Qui-Gon backed up and countered. By necessity, Obi-Wan's fighting style was changing. He had adopted new forms and was training with Masters H'ranak, Sorest and Yoda. Qui-Gon's feelings conflicted over Obi-Wan's excellent progress adjusting to his new circumstances.

Feigning left, right, left, left, Obi-Wan added too much motion to his moves, but Qui-Gon was almost fooled by the last one and nearly exposed his left side counterattacking.

"You have learned well, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said smiling, but his unspoken thoughts wondered why Obi-Wan had not learned such things from him.

_Because I did not teach them to him._

Oblivious to his former Master's regret, Obi-Wan grinned back. "Master Yoda tells me that I still have much to learn." He thrust forward and Qui-Gon evaded and countered.

"Master Yoda says that to everyone," he responded.

Their moves, their blows and the match was about learning. Obi-Wan testing out his skills, modified by the loss of a hand, Qui-Gon observing and testing the changes. But Qui-Gon knew that it was not the best training method for either of them. Especially if they were to confront the Master of the Sith that they had destroyed back on Naboo.

That hidden Sith Master was something new and cunning. The Jedi Council now sensed the creeping darkness in the Force, but had no idea of its source. The Sith was stalking them and the Jedi were unprepared. The attempts they had made to find the Sith had been thwarted easily; Jedi had gone missing or been killed. The Sith seemed to always know what they would do; they had become predictable to their enemy.

His eyes went again the end of Obi-Wan's arm, the stump smoothed with healing and bacta. Obi-Wan was uncomfortable with mechanical prosthetics and seemed to be putting off any decision about replacing his missing hand.

Qui-Gon lunged. He had tested out Obi-Wan weaknesses and now he struck with heavy blows, switching from side to side, driving the younger man back, his green blade whirling. Obi-Wan countered but made the mistake of trying to match Qui-Gon's strength with his one hand. Their blades locked and Qui-Gon forced his opponent's blue blade backward.

"Auuuggh!"

Obi-Wan leaped back, his lightsaber going out. Qui-Gon's went out as well.

Qui-Gon had forced the other blade back so far that it had touched Obi-Wan's exposed shoulder. The mark reddened as they both stared at it, shocked. There was a tiny black mark in the center.

Dooku clapped his hands together.

They both straightened and bowed before leaving the ring.

"Quite instructive," Dooku said before looking down at young Anakin. "You asked what would happen if there were any 'accidents' in lightsaber training." He inclined his head toward Obi-Wan's injury. Anakin narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan who gave Dooku a contemptuous glare.

"You should go to the med-center, young Obi-Wan. We wouldn't want that to leave a scar. would we?" Dooku advised in a friendly voice. He picked up and handed Obi-Wan his tunic.

Obi-Wan did not answer. He seized the tunic and put it on, covering up the injury and then gathered the rest of his things. He looked at Qui-Gon for a moment, his gray eyes stormy and conflicted, before leaving.

If he went to the med-center, there would be an inquiry. If he treated the wound in his room there wouldn't be. They all knew it.

"Shall we continue with your training?" Dooku asked Anakin, who scrunched up his face back at him as if the older man had insulted him. But he did not look sure about what that insult might be.

"Anakin." Qui-Gon gestured toward the center of the ring.

"Should I take off my shirt first?" he asked without moving.

"Of course," Dooku answered before Qui-Gon could. Qui-Gon nodded and waited while the boy took of boots, belt and top. Dooku picked up his training saber and handed it to him. Anakin scowled but took it.

He slowly walked into the arena to face his master. Anakin's expression had changed. His youthful eagerness to learn animated his stance. Qui-Gon was touched by the boy's fierce loyalty, but he needed more than that to motivate his learning, because he would face the Sith one day.

Qui-Gon knew that Anakin would never fight like he or Obi-Wan. He would be incomparably superior. With the right training. And discipline.

They bowed, ignited their sabers and saluted. A young Padawan facing his Master.

"Begin," Dooku said from edge of the arena.

**- - - END**

(This story was first posted on tf.n: 19-May-2008)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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